Reliance
by Zagzagael
Summary: Lafayette and Jesus have a late night talk about some of Lafayette's fears.


_Lafayette was holding him at a cruel arm's length and he was mewling. Wanting wanting wanting. Sick with it, hungry, thirsty. Needing to be closer needing to pull himself into his lover's arms, pushing, pushing, then looking up and recoiling from the visage of Lafayette as skull with the bloody sacrificial blades coming out of both eyeholes._

A heavy feeling of a gaze upon his naked chest, watching across his collarbones, scrutinizing his face, he felt the import of these eyes rest upon his own closed eyelids, eyelashes REM-fluttering.

Jesus slammed his eyes open, out of the dream and into the dark of Lafayette's bedroom. Lafayette was sitting, knees bent, at the end of the bed, his back against the canopy post, the mattress a stage, the moonlight a single spotlight upon him. The black holes of his eyes were boring into Jesus's own eyes.

He jumped violently within the bindings of his own skin, scrambling backwards, forcing himself upright, pressing his back against the headboard. He couldn't breathe. He very nearly cast a sign against the Evil Eye but as he watched, Lafayette inclined his head in a kind of silent apology, holding one hand out towards him, palm up. His lungs released then pulled, released then pulled. With each new breath he calmed his erratic heartbeat. "Holy Mother of God, Lafayette! You scared the crap out of me." His voice was shaking. He was awake, the dream falling away like so much meaningless refuse. One last shuddering exhale before he felt his lungs unclench. "What are you doing? What..."

"Are you the devil?" The molasses-thick voice interrupted him and seemed to be broadcasting into the dark bedroom in surround sound.

"Am I the devil? What the Hell does that mean? Am I the devil? Who's the one sitting on the end of the bed watching me while I'm sleeping, casting some kind of glance over me? What? Am I the devil?"

"You heard me. Are. You. The Devil?"

The familiar twang, the recognized impatient way around the words. The question again, pointed and direct, focused him. Jesus watched the stillness of this other man, listened to the words, tried to burrow beneath and find the meaning. He wanted to crawl across the bed and between Lafayette's knees, climb the ladder of his abs and ribs and disappear into his mouth, behind his teeth and feel the vibration of his tongue forming words like finger writing on the sky. He sucked his lower lip beneath his top teeth and considered the question, the motivation, the fear.

"I don't know what you're asking me. Why would I be the devil? Lafayette, it's me, it's me, man. Are you dreaming, are you awake? Did you have a nightmare? Cuz I sure as shit had a nightmare..."

"Stop. Just stop that. Do not deflect. Are you the devil? Somehow some way, are you?"

The silence hung heavy and dark between them. With a slight falling of his shoulders, Jesus moved into it. "I don't know."

"Oh, fuck me." Lafayette was off the bed, fists pounding against the sides of his head.

Jesus followed, impelled, and overcome. He reached out quickly and grabbed Lafayette hard by both thick shoulder balls, pulling him against him. "Don't. Don't do this. Just listen to me." Against the side of his face, Lafayette was shaking his head and in his arms, Jesus could feel him, the snared rabbit, the spirit-stripped hare. "Please, La. Please."

The long moment was heating Jesus's flesh everywhere that he held Lafayette against his own nakedness. The wide shoulders, the strong back muscles, the perfect ass. He slipped his hands down, keeping his grip tight on Lafayette's biceps, finding and holding fast to both elbows. Slowly, slowly he turned him in his arms. Made bold by this allowance, he pulled him into his strong embrace, wrapped him in his arms and held on fiercely. Finally, he felt Lafayette decide and then lower his face into Jesus's neck, his mouth breathing hot against the place where his heart beat for him. Jesus held his breath and the vein pounded against Lafayette's teeth.

Lafayette was whispering now. "Jesus, Jesus. I don't think I can do this. You don't even know what you are, who you are. You just don't know, and brother, that is seriously fucked up."

The whispered words were becoming louder and Jesus had to step back, let him go. For a moment he thought he was actually going to be on the receiving end of a wildly thrown punch and he staggered away, out of range, to the bed, sitting hard, watching Lafayette through wet lashes.

The other man was pacing, his voice growing loud and sharp, cutting into Jesus. "And here's you bringing your fucked up shit into my life, into my bed, into my heart. I don't want this. Why are you here, Jesus? Why don't you know if you're the devil in this," he waved a hand, "disguise. Just tell me the goddamned truth."

"Can I at least turn the light on?"

Lafayette stomped to the light switch and threw it, the room illuminated softly, the lampshade covered with a silk scarf. "There."

"Lafayette." His voice was weeping.

"Talk. Jesus."

He nodded. "I have not lied to you. Maybe I haven't told you all the thoughts that run through my mind, all the things I think and all the things I've done. Yet. It's not like I'm keeping stuff from you, I just get so, man," he shook his head, "caught up in you when we're together that, I don't know, some things just don't seem that important. You know?"

Lafayette nodded. A reluctant movement of his head, one shoulder.

Jesus stood and Lafayette backed away from him, then turned and walked out into the front room, flipping on lights as he went. Jesus followed.

"I told you that I don't know who my father is. My mother was raped. Raped. Is that my fault? Do I have to confess to that sin? That sin is me, Lafayette. Me! My whole entire family practice the craft, okay? You know that. Does it leave some unanswered questions about things? Probably. So, I'm not going to say anything that I don't know something about. How can I? Why would I? Before I met you, damn, that moment you walked through that door..."

"Get on with it."

"I need you, Lafayette. And I think you need me. Something inside of you answers all the unanswered questions inside of me. Do you dig that? It's heavy. It's like I'm drawn to you and I can't stop it, I can't control it. But there's this other thing, too, see? I want to take care of you. For like ever."

Silence hung heavy. Jesus faltered into it.

"I don't think that's a devil thing is what I'm saying. I don't think the devil wants to take care of you, body and soul. Lafayette, I don't want to be the devil, babe, I don't want that. I want to be the angel that watches over you. Takes care of you."

He had tilted his head and was looking at him through his eyelashes. Jesus saw the corner of his upper lip tremble and his heartsblood sang out. He took another step towards him but Lafayette waved him to a stop. "You ain't gettin' it. Lafayette takes care of Lafayette. I take care of them around me. No body, no one, takes care of me but me. And that's the way it is, that's the way it always done been and I don't think I can hang with changing that right now. I'm not sure I totally trust you."

"You trust me. You don't trust you. You don't trust us."

The moment broke like a thrown vase.

"That's it. You got to get outta here. Get dressed and go."

"Damn it, Lafayette. Stop throwing me out of your house every time you get scared. I'm scared too, okay?" He watched as Lafayette's eyes softened, his face relaxing, his lips resting easy over his teeth, the clucking tongue stilled.

"You don't act scared. You act scary."

"If I'm scary it's because you make me fierce. And that can look scary. I would never hurt you, Lafayette. You have to trust that. You just have to."

"I just have to, huh? Yeah?"

The rawness in the other man drew him like a wound. He was a caretaker and something in this man called to him to care and heal. Lafayette needed him whether or not he was ready to acknowledge that fact. And Jesus needed Lafayette.

He nodded, moving forward slowly. "Yeah. You have to. Never ever hurt you. Here, baby, here." He reached out and cradled Lafayette's face in both open hands and felt the weight settle into him, into his bones, the shape of the jaw, the face, the slanting cheekbones fitted into the shape of his fingers, his palms, the bones in his wrist. They were joined as though in a perfect hewn block of marble. He tilted Lafayette's face forward and pressed his mouth, hungry, against his lips.

And Lafayette kissed him back.

Jesus slid one hand down into Lafayette's waiting hand where their fingers entwined and knotted. Shoulder to shoulder they turned off the lights and returned to the bedroom. Returned to bed. In the lingering dark they rocked one another back to dreamless sleep until the sunrise woke them into a new day.


End file.
